Oooo, I can't wait, I can't wait, I can't wait!
Maybe it's something to do with the music that accompanies Cady May's demonstration video of her spindolyns. Or the image of such a peaceful seeming soul sitting there in her cabin, cat stretching in the background. But this just looked like a wonderful way to spin.
Add that my back has gone out, out, OUT! and I'm worrying that it's the position I get into when spindling. Now that I'm so hooked into it, that's a big fear.
I do know I can't live with this back pain. It feels like a nerve that runs through my entire pelvic section from my back straight through to the front, then across and 90 degree turn down the inside of my thigh. It feels like that nerve is being subjected to a medieval torture device, then bashed with a sledge hammer for good measure. So if it is the position of spindling with my top whorler, then the spindolyn might be more than just an intrigue, but my solution. I'm hooked into spindling, one way or the other.
Cady May did email me and said that she hadn't sent mine out as of Friday because, with the frigid cold front, her cabin rooms were 45 degrees except right by the fireplace, so she was afraid the glue wouldn't have dried. But she said she'd gotten an electric heater and would send it tomorrow (which is now yesterday) if the heater helped. So I don't know when it'll arrive, probably sometime this week. It won't be soon enough! I'm dying to try it.
This is one of those times when having a horse is huge overhead, and I'm not talking about cost. I'm talking about in 10 minutes I have to fill 4 gallon jugs of water, carried two in each hand (that means no gloves for that part) out to the barn, saved from slipping on the solid sheet of ice that's my driveway by some serious spike button ice cleats, and do just what my back feels like most (NOT!) Fork out Cloud's indoor pen, bend in that awful position to pour the water, and all the other moves that result in her getting grained and 10 lbs. of hay, those tight leaves spread open. I'm not looking forward to that, but gotta do it.
New barn cat. S/he ran from me for months. Looked too fat to be ferel, but it's adopted my barn. I feed him now. He knows by now I'm not interested in eating him. He loves to be pet, even a little roughly (my test). I sat down out there to see if he'd come to me, and he did. This cat ain't de-clawed, along with the purring came the claw-kneading. On my leg. That cat's a mystery. He's either very trusting or is owned. Or was. He's taken up residence here for sure.
I'd bring him inside if Bella-Dawg wouldn't eat him. But I have no doubt in the world that she would. He never looks cold. With all that thick fur, no one would be. He's adopted a bale of hay as his bed. I put a blanket on it for him. I think I'll find a more crumply one he can snuggle into, this is a mover's furniture protector pad. Not very snuggly.